5/11

"I don't want to go to my class tomorrow, want to go hunting instead?" Possibly the best thing that my dad could have said on Thursday night. Needless to say I was ready to go when my 3:40 alarm (sun is rising earlier now so have to give myself a few extra minutes) sounded off. I wanted to go back to our opening day area. We knew a bird was in there this year, on years past it has alway held turkeys. We walked in on the fresh skidder trail, following the topography to the back side of the swampy pond. We stood on the end of the ridge listening out over a clear cut. Just like that the sound of spring brings my attention to the creek bottom on the other side of the clear cut. The first gobble. We quickly make a plan to move in closer, hoping that we would be able to pull the bird in closer. We set up in the clear cut, on the back edge of a knoll so that the turkey could hear our calls but couldn't see us until he crested the top and by that time he would be in gun range. Just like a basketball player shooting a free throw, or a skater getting their stride, we have our moments that just feel right. A turkey hunter experiences this moment when he hears that bird gobble and you can tell he is just a little bit closer. " Here he comes" I tell my dad. Each gobble he sounds closer and closer. Until one gobble didn't sound right. There was just something about the rhythm that was off. 5 minutes later a bright red head pokes above the hill, then another, and another. They step out into the open, looking for the source of the calling they heard. I can see their long beards almost dragging on the ground. (Beards and spurs are similar to antlers in the sense that the bigger they are the better the trophy). I just called in three awesome birds. The only problem was that instead of coming straight to us they swung out and around so when we first saw them they were at 60 yards, therefore out of gun range. We let them drift off before running a big loop around the trio. We heard them gobble back on the ridge where we were standing when we first heard them. I set up the decoys and set up back behind my dad, hoping that they would come around the corner of the skidder trail and come running. Our set up was off. Maybe they saw us walking in the clear cut, maybe the wind moved the decoys the wrong way, maybe I made the wrong call. "Hard telling not knowing", as my dad would say. The turkeys skirted us again, walking past this time at 50 yards, just out of gun range. Sunday morning those birds better watch out because we know right where they will be and we have a tag to fill.

Hours spent on Project today:6